


built a home for you (for me)

by ShyAudacity



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Gladys Jones centric, Good Parent Gladys Jones, Grief/Mourning, Mentioned Archie Andrews, Other, i... hate that tag but thats whatever, mentions of drinking, parentdale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 04:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21009827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity
Summary: Gladys doesn’t cry until after she’s hung up the phone and for a minute it feels like she’s never going to stop. Without even questioning it, she calls her boss at the mechanic shop and tells him that there’s a family emergency and then walks back into her apartment, packing a bag to go home. Her kids need her. Her husband needs her.She needs this for herself.ORGladys finds out about Fred because she has to.





	built a home for you (for me)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this late at night but that doesnt matter cause its only really for myself and like four other people ANYWAYS
> 
> Unbeta'd and title from To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra

Gladys gets a phone call two days into July as she’s walking out the door in the morning and she doesn’t think anything of it until she sees the caller ID.

Jughead doesn’t usually call her first. They haven’t talked much since she left Riverdale. Certainly not before noon on a Tuesday- so that’s how she knows something is wrong. One part of her wants to ignore it and let him go to voicemail, she can call him some other time when she isn’t already running late. The other part of her though- the one that’s always had an itch to dive headfirst into trouble- wants to know what she’s getting herself into.

_“Mom?”_ Jughead’s voice breaks, watery and upset. _“Mom, something happened to Mr. A.”_

Her heart sinks into her stomach before Jughead even tells her. She can only imagine where this is going-

_Oh, good God. It can’t be true. Goddammit, Fred, not you._

She would hate to freak out her kid more than he already is so she keeps a level head while Jughead talks her through everything, just trying to process it all. She asks how everyone is holding up; one part because she needs to know and the other part because it’s exactly what Fred would’ve done in a moment like this.

_“We’re okay, given the circumstances,” _Jughead says with a sniffle._ “It’s just really shitty. Archie doesn’t want to talk to anyone about it and Dad’s just being really quiet about the whole thing-. I don’t know what to do.” _

She doesn’t say much else because she can feel her eyes starting to sting and that’s never a good sign. Gladys doesn’t cry until after she’s hung up the phone and for a minute it feels like she’s never going to stop. Without even questioning it, she calls her boss at the mechanic shop and tells him that there’s a family emergency and then walks back into her apartment, packing a bag to go home. Her kids need her. Her husband needs her.

She needs this for herself.

The entire drive to Riverdale she can’t stop thinking about Fred Andrews. None of the cassettes in her collection seem appealing enough right now and the radio will only give her a headache, so she sticks with silence- letting herself dwell on old times.

There’s one moment she keeps going back to. She was at least eight months pregnant- with Jughead or Jellybean she can’t remember- and a bunch of them we’re out to dinner. Fred, FP, and Gladys on one side while Mary and Alice on the other. Gladys was on the far end of the booth and her ankles were sore from being on her feet all day. She draped her legs over FP’s lap, wanting to give herself a break and the soles of her feet ended up resting against Fred’s thigh.

The man, _God love him_, didn’t even protest. He looked up at Gladys and smiled, not giving her a chance to apologize. “You’re okay, Gladys. I promise,” He said, patting her leg. “Besides, this is what friends are for.”

She can’t remember if she ever thanked him for that, but she really hopes she did.

Three stops and four cigarettes later, she’s getting out of her truck and stepping onto Riverdale soil. Her first stop is Pop’s and it’s appropriately full for midday, the late lunch crowd. She needs an omelet and a friendly face before she gets into this whole family mess. Before the hurting kicks in even more.

She can’t stop thinking about the last time Jughead called with bad news about Fred- barely a year and a half ago. Hearing that he’d been shot was a kick to the gut. The ambiguity of that- the not knowing how he was doing- was twice as frightening. This… this just hurts. An unforgettable, can’t ignore it kind of ache.

Gladys’ heart starts to beat a little faster as she turns onto Third and Elm. She doesn’t have a very good track record with showing up unexpected. Hopefully, this doesn’t blow up in her face. She takes a second to just breathe before she gets out of the truck, already calculating a backup plan- just in case.

She’s pocketing her keys as she walks up to the house when a voice she hasn’t heard in _years_ calls out to her.

“Gigi?”

She whips around and sure enough there’s Mary Andrews with a stack of mail in her hand looking more than one kind of surprised. Gladys decides to take that as a good thing and starts moving towards her, her steps quick.

Mary keeps a white-knuckle grip on her mail even as she wraps her arms around Gladys. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you,” she says, but her tone is sad.

Gladys just tightens her grip, her hand making long sweeps across Mary’s back. She can’t even remember the last time she hugged someone with this much intent- maybe when she last saw her kids, maybe before that, who knows.

She pulls back after a minute but doesn’t stop touching Mary; Gladys holds onto Mary’s arm, her thumbs moving slowly. “Jughead called me. Are you guys hanging in there?”

Mary shrugs. “It still feels like some bad dream I’m having; I haven’t really wrapped my head around it yet. Archie hasn’t come out of his room.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, Mare- anything, really-.”

“I’ll call you. I promise.”

Gladys nods then looks up towards Archie’s bedroom window. “Give Archie a hug for me. If you’re both feeling up to it, I can come by later today or tomorrow- maybe talk over a pot of coffee?”

Mary nods, her eyes watering again. “I’d love that. Go hug your kids; I’m sure they’re waiting on you.”

Gladys keeps the _I didn’t tell them I was coming_ to herself, but listens all the same. She gives Mary one more quick hug before moving towards the house.

She’s not feeling brave enough to let herself in so Gladys rings the doorbell. For a second she thinks that this was a mistake. That she shouldn’t have come, that she should’ve asked first at the least- but then the front opens and the time for regretting this is over.

Jughead’s eyes go wide at the sight of her, stunned, obviously; Gladys doesn’t miss the way his bottom lip wobbles. “Mom?” He sounds just like he did on the phone earlier only worse somehow.

“Hey, kid.” She holds her arms out, not stepping inside just yet. “C’mere.”

Jughead stalls for a minute like he’s still catching up to reality. After a beat, his arms come around Gladys’ shoulders, his face falling to her neck; she can feel his chest and back heaving under her hands.

“I hate this,” he says, muffled by her jacket. “I hate this _so much.”_

“I know,” she says, cradling the back of his head. “I know, I hate this, too.”

Jughead steps back, pulling away from her altogether and wipes his eyes with his sleeve.

“Where’s your Dad?”

“Upstairs. He came home from work and went right to bed. He didn’t- I don’t know if he’s been drinking or not.”

“That’s okay, Jughead. I’ll go check on him.” 

Gladys feels her anxiety grow as she heads towards the stairs. She stalls for a minute, trying to think of how she wants to go about this. _It’s just FP,_ she tells herself, _he can’t be mad at you for wanting to come home after something like this… right? _

The door is cracked open when she gets there so she doesn’t bother with knocking. She pushes it open just enough that she can slip in, remembering how much the door creaked last time she was here.

FP is on his side faced away from the door in a t-shirt and ratty sweats. His Sheriff’s uniform is scattered across the floor like he’d stepped out of it as soon as he was home. There’s a tight line to his shoulder’s, giving away his restless sleep.

She knows he startles easily so she tries to be gentle. Gladys touches the back of his calf then says, “FP.”

He wakes with a start much like she thought he would, gasping lightly. FP’s eyes are puffy around the edges and he looks confused- again, expected. His voice is rough. “Gladys?”

“Hey, doll.” 

FP doesn’t hesitate to reach for her, taking her hand and pulling her into bed next to him.

_Thank God, he’s not upset with me._

It’s been years since they’ve done this, but it still feels familiar. Her thumb rubs over his cheek, collecting the moisture there. The other side of his face is pressed into her shoulder. She holds him as sincerely as she can for both of their sakes. When FP starts to tremble, Gladys doesn’t say anything. Just holds him tighter if at all possible.

“I’m so sorry, FP,” she says over and over again. As if it can fix any of this almighty awful.

Some time passes before anything else is said. “I don’t know what to do know,” he says. “This doesn’t- we’re too young to be doing this. How could we lose him already? It’s not fair.”

“I know. I know it’s not. Just take it easy for now, alright? …We can figure the rest out later. I’m not going anywhere, not now.”

Later, once she’s sure that FP has slept at least a little while, Gladys is going to get up and make dinner for her children. She’s going to hold them both then kiss their foreheads before they go to bed.

Tomorrow, once she’s had more time to wrap her head around all of this, she’s going to make her way to the Andrews house with a bag of coffee and a pair of open arms. Ready to sit and listen for as long as either of them needs.

Then, when the wake rolls around a few days from now and the Andrews house is as full as it’s ever been- Gladys is going to hold hands with her husband and ignore the way old townies look at her. She’s not there for them. She’s here for Fred, for the guy who always gave her a break. Even if she didn’t deserve it.

And, if by some chance, someone has the audacity to ask what she’s doing there, Gladys is going to smile and say:

“Freddie Andrews is my friend.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Idk how this managed to be so short and somehow still ended up being longer than I expected but it is.
> 
> Thanks for reading my fic. Comments/Kudos are appreciated and encouraged. Have a great day!


End file.
